Anyone for Tennis Dennis?

Anyone for Tennis, Menace, Dennis?

By Nikki Kernovii

Chapter 12--Fountains of Blue

I woke in the night to use the bathroom.

As I turned on the bathroom light, I looked back to see Dennis, naked and asleep in the bed. The single sheet covering only part of his body.

He was by far the most manly, masculine looking boyfriend I had had. Even if he was not really quite a 'Boyfriend'

Once I had finished doing what was necessary, I crawled back to bed and snuggled into his arms.

For a while at least, I could feel like we had a fairly normal 'Lovers' relationship.

I felt a sense of comfort and security as I snuggled up next to him, in this strange unsettling world.

In the morning I felt him move out of the bed.

I was still surfacing from my deep sleep, when he returned from the bathroom.

I was spread, ingloriously over the bed. My hair frazzled out around me from going to bed with wet hair.

"Beautiful, my little one. But we must be going." he said. He leaned over to kiss me before he returned to finish dressing.

"Can we not stay here and make love?" I pouted.

"Make love? Or just have sex? What it is you want?" He raised an eyebrow and smiled a lop-sided smile at me.

"Don't tease." I pouted.

"Ah but you are pretty when I tease." he chuckled. But then he dragged me...

He dragged me out of the bed.

"Your body, how is it today?"

"Soft and in need of a hug." I grumbled, falling into his arms.

I was always a bit slow to get going in the mornings.

"Non. Any pain? Any bruise? Any damage? Yesterday was hard day." He held me at arm's length to survey my body.

I could see a tent forming in his smart, expensive trousers.

Ha!

"Not really. A couple of places where the flogger thingy whipped on my hip. But not much to worry about. I like to feel where it has been. To feel and remember that feeling."

Dennis traced a finger over several places where there were red marks on my skin.

I purred to his touch.

"Still, we go gentle today." He stroked me gently. "Use the bathroom. Meet me at the back room." He pointed towards the left side of the building. I guess he meant THAT room. The one with the latex bed and a cupboard full of his kinky toys.

He patted me gently on the butt as he turned me towards the bathroom.

I liked even that.

When I finished in the bathroom, I dressed in the only thing I had of my own. My shoes.

When I reached, what I thought of, as Dennis's playroom, he had the cupboard open and was sorting things out.

He turned me around on the spot a couple of times, inspecting or looking for something. Or just being a dirty old man maybe, and oggling my naked body.

"Bon." he seemed to have made up his mind.

Dennis turned me to face away then he pulled my arms behind my back. He used some form of tape to bind my right hand to my left elbow, and my left hand to my right elbow behind me. That position did kind of make my boobs stick out more.

Next came a contraption of chains and clips. I could guess, even before he shook it and started fixing it to me, that it would include nipple clips. He did seem to be a bit obsessed with my nips.

Sure enough a couple of crocodile clips were fixed over each nipple. These were not too tight. Maybe just tight enough to hold the chains in place.

On chain swung loosely across my chest, between by breasts, then two chains hung down my body.

Dennis rubbed my pussy briefly.

I thought, I hoped, that he was going to masturbate me. To rub me. But then he clipped a crocodile clip to each labia.

That stung a bit to start with, but was not unpleasant.

I was turned away from the cupboard so did not see, but could hear him rummaging and putting some things in his pockets or a bag.

Next came a loose blue and white dress that he simple pulled over my head. It was sleeveless. Which was obviously a good thing. If a bit weird.

I looked down to see that it only just - ONLY JUST - covered my naughty bits. WAYYYYYY shorter than anything I owned. Dennis then slung a light, beige coloured jacket, over my shoulders. I couldn't run my fingers over it to check, but I thought that it was possibly linen. It looked good. I would love to have had one of my own.

Dennis stepped round in front of me to button up the middle button, holding the jacket on me.

"Bon!" He said with a smile.

"Really?" I squeeked. "Just like this?"

"Oui. C'est bon."

Oh Gods. Oh Gods. Oh Gods. What have I got myself into now?

Dennis led me down the drive, through the electric gates, to a waiting Taxi.

He helped me to get in as I did not have the use of my hands to steady me. He fastened the seatbelt around me before fastening his own.

"Patisserie nanant."

"Oui Monsieur." The driver nodded."Bel endroit. Ma femme aime y aller." With that we started off on our journey.

"What about breakfast?" I asked. "I'm starving."

Dennis looked at me strangely, then his stare turned into a grin.

"Hungry?" Dennis asked. "environ une heure."

"AN Hour?" I hurumphed.

"Une heure. Vous l'aimerez." He said. "You... You will like it." He looked at his watch. "There are things I must do before. First. One Hour. OK."

"O.K." I agreed rather reluctantly. Not that I could do anything about it anyway.

No hands. No money. No idea where I was or where I was going.

This was Dennis. Always in control.

As if to emphasize the point, I felt him put his hand on my right thigh. At first, he gripped quite hard. Then he relaxed his grip and slid his fingers further up my, terribly, short dress.

FUCK! I was already wet.

And he knew it.

I tried to ignore him.

I turned to the window to watch this strange world go by. The buildings all seemed to be stone built, some obviously old, but others could have been modern, but made in a similar style. There were very few made-up pavements or walkways beside the roads. What paths or pavement there were, were cobbled with stones.

Cars seemed to be parked like they had been abandoned. Just left at the side, or half on the grass. or half on the road at odd angles.

It all looked so different to my little village.

We left the houses of Fleury behind and headed out through fields and woodland.

I knew. I just knew, that I was now leaving a damp stain on the bottom hem of the dress.

FUCK!

In no time, maybe ten or fifteen minutes we entered a town, that must have been bigger than Fleury. It had a high-rise building. Yet there were still plenty of the old stone built houses alongside more modern styles.

A couple of minutes later the taxi stopped at the entrance to a pedestrian zone.

Dennis helped me out of the Taxi.

"Revenez ici dans ce même endroit dans une heure s'il vous plaît."

"Bien sûr Monsieur." The taxi driver dipped his cap before reversing out and driving away.

Wherever we were, it seemed to be a small shopping area. And it was busy. There were people all over the place.

A few of those people looked in our direction and nodded as if they knew Dennis.

If my hands had been free, I would have been tugging at the hem of the - oh so short - dress. It was both embarrassing and a huge turn on.

Gods. I just hoped that nobody noticed the damp patch.

HA! I almost laughed as I thought that.

Dennis had his arm around me and was guiding and supporting me. He led me down a couple of streets to a collection of tables outside some sort of Cafe. He looked around before he selected a table on the outer edges. There were a few planters with low bushes spaced along the front, that partly separated the seating area from the street.

Being a gentleman, Dennis held a seat and guided me to sit, before he sat down next to me.

I could feel the cold metal of the chair on the backs of my thighs as a reminder of just how short the dress was.

As I sat, I could feel the clamps on my labia squish.

I swear I could feel the cool breeze on my damp bits.

I felt so very exposed. Terrified and excited in equal measure.

It did not seem very long before a server came out. He was dressed in black trousers and waistcoat. A crisp white shirt and a black apron. Almost the archetypal waiter.

"Bonjour." He said with a slight bow.

"Bonjour." Dennis looked up. "Café noir. Thé au lait pour la dame. Quatre croissants et deux pain au chocolat. Merci." He continued.

The server nodded with a "Merci." then turned and left.

Dennis smiled at me as he put a hand on my thigh again.

"You will like."

"You said an hour. Is this breakfast?"

"Oui. Yes." He chuckled. "I tease."

I pouted.

"You are pretty. Like this." He chuckled again.

Bastard!

He reached over to undo the button on my jacket.

"Dennis. Please don't." I squeaked. Begging him to keep me somewhat covered.

"You do not want to stay? To eat? Or Non? You stay. The Jacket will be loose. Yes?"

He looked away, ignoring me. But his left hand returned to my right thigh. He even pulled it towards him, thus spreading my legs.

I felt even more exposed.

I saw a guy two tables away look over. He was staring so hard, I was surprised that his eyes didn't pop out on stalks like a cartoon character.

I wanted to close my legs. I wanted to run away and hide. But I also felt a gush of moisture and a throb in my clit.

Then I thought 'I've never been here before. I will probably never be here again. I don't know these people. They don't know me, or where I am from. Nobody knows my parents or my boss or my friends. As long as I am not arrested, what the fuck does it matter?'

'Ahh but you're being a slut.' Said another voice in my head.

'Too right i'm being a slut.' I said to that voice. 'And I am fucking enjoying it.'

I spread my legs wider.

Dennis noticed and chuckled. "Excellent my little one."

When I looked down in his direction, he had a distinct tent in the front of his smart, expensive trousers.

Yes. He was enjoying my predicament.

A few moments later our server returned with a tray holding our drinks and a couple of plates of food.

They looked and smelled delish!

Dennis nodded a quick 'merci' as the drinks and plates were placed in front us.

He tore a piece of a croissant and put it in my mouth.

I had heard of the things. I had seen them on the telly. But never had I tasted something so light and buttery and yummy. English breakfast cereal was going to be so boring after this.

"Try it naked. It is good naked. I like naked." He said, a bit too loudly. "These are good with confiture... Jam. In England Remy use marmalade." He continued in a more normal voice.

He went quiet as he tore into another of the croissant and ate one himself.

For the next few minutes he alternated feeding me and feeding himself. Almost making a show of it in exaggerated slowness.

Poser!

Being fed the croissants was bad enough. Having Dennis hold my cup of tea for me to drink made me feel like an infant.

People were giving us funny looks.

After a break for the drinks, Dennis fed us the second croissants.

I had thought that breakfast had not looked all that substantial. I was hungry. I had been hungry.

I was already feeling much better.

When he started on the little roll type thing with brown flecks in it. I knew I still had way more space.

That was really yummy.

"What is this? I like it." I said.

"Pain au chocolat."

Pain in chocolate?

Oh! Bread with chocolate. Right. Of Course.

On the other hand 'pain-in-chocolate.' also sounded like fun.

At last, with all completed, Dennis left a few notes tucked under his plate and helped me to stand.

He made a show of buttoning my jacket again. Then led me away from the cafe and along the street.

We were still making heads turn.

When I caught a glimpse in the window of a shop, I could see that Dennis had grabbed a handful of my dress so that my butt cheeks were now all but on display.

Thank goodness the weather was still mild. Of course, we were a lot further south than my village in Derbyshire, so the autumn chill was not quite upon us. Still, I felt a chill breeze on my exposed butt and damp bits.

At a rough looking couple of buildings, Dennis pushed a door open and led me in.

"Ah monsier Longechambon. Ca Va?" A grizzled man looked up from his work and smiled.

He was - maybe in his forties, slightly greying. A little over weight, but with big, strong, rough looking hands. He struck me as a builder. A man who spent a lot of the day outdoors. He was wearing baggy overalls and solid boots.

"Ca va merci." Dennis said.

Then they rabbitted away so fast that I got lost and just looked around me.

This seemed to be some kind of builders. or Builders merchant place. Or maybe a bit of both.

The conversation went back and forth for a while. Then some sort of agreement must have been reached as both men nodded. There was a pause.

" Vous avez un nouveau soumis?" The builder chappie said, pointing towards me.

That brought my attention back to the shop and the present.

'Soumis?' wasn't that the word Dennis had used in the restaurant a week ago?

It obviously referred to me.

"Oui." Dennis said. he walked towards me. "Un vrai masochiste"

Me?

Oh Gods! Here we go again.

Dennis unbuttoned my jacket and drew it from my shoulders.

He turned me round and bent me forward by pressing on the back of my head.

My naked bum was now fully exposed to this stranger.

Dennis drew a finger over a line, which was probably a red mark left over from the day before.

"Une excellente toile sur laquelle peindre."

Wait! What? What the fuck did that mean?

"I tell him you are a canvas. I paint on. I paint red marks. I colour you." Dennis said as he gave my naked bottom a gentle pat.

Yes! You do that all right. I thought. But kept quiet. Blushing even harder. And feeling that familiar rush.

Gods. I was becoming such a pervert.

"Vous êtes un homme chanceux." The builder guy said, chuckling.

"Oui et très heureux." Dennis replied. "I am very happy."

Well I am glad he was happy. I WAS happy but also very embarrassed.

But at least, at that point, Dennis released the pressure on my neck so that I could stand upright again.

"Jean-Pierre!" The grizzled man shouted over his shoulder.

A lanky man, probably in his twenties, with a mop of dark hair, came in from the yard out back.

"Oui maître Olivier" He said in a surprisingly high pitched voice. He looked, both eager and bright-eyed, but also his eyes flickered down to the floor a lot.

He was wearing a single, ragged, blue, coverall up to his neck.

"Montrez votre dos à mes amis."

The young man blushed but undid his coverall.

He was naked underneath. No clothes. No underwear. No body hair.

Well except for some strange contraption thingy over his dick.

I didn't get to study it, as the boy shuffled to turn around.

I had a moment's wave of deja-vu as i had a vision, a moment before he turned, when I knew what we would see.

His whole body from his neck to his ankles was covered in dark, red, stripes.

I knew that look.

I knew what he was feeling.

I knew.

He quickly pulled his coverall back up.

The grizzled man, who I guessed was called Olivier, waved his hand at the young man to dismiss him.

Jean-Pierre, dashed back to whatever he was working on in the back-yard.

"Artistes." Olivier said simply. Then he too returned to his work. Shaving some thing wooden on the bench in front of him.

"Jusqu'à la prochaine fois." Dennis called over his shoulder, as he took my arm and we headed for the door.

"Oui. Jusqu'à la prochaine fois." Olivier said without looking up.

"Olivier is a good builder. He is good friend, for many years. He do some work for my house. But also... we share a passion. A hobby. "

We continued along the street, round the corner and back to where the Taxi had dropped us and was now waiting for us again.

" Rue Guérin, Fontainebleau" Dennis said.

The next part of the journey was pretty uneventful. Dennis seemed to be lost in thought.

He still kept his hand on my thigh and moved it up and down, but he seemed a bit distracted this time.

We were dropped off at a Peachy coloured 'L'-shaped, apartment complex with six levels. There was a ramp to a roller shutter door where I presumed there was underground parking. Dennis took my arm and led me to the main entrance. Then inside and up.

At his knock on a door, a pretty redheaded girl, probably in her teens, maybe late teens answered.

"Uncle Dennis. Bonjour." She said, smiling (Did she blush slightly or was that the light? Hmm?)

She drew back to welcome us in.

Dennis led me in.

The apartment was neat and well decorated if somewhat simply so. Almost spartan. The peachy or maybe magnolia painted walls were clean and looked to have been painted not so long ago. The wood panelled flooring gave the place an elegant look.

"Bonjour Odd-Eel." He bent to kiss her on each cheek.

Odd-Eel? Really? Was that anyway to greet someone?

Was that some kind of in joke or what?

"This my friend Jooolee. She is English. " Dennis introduced me.

"English? Oh Good." Odd-Eel clapped her hands together in some excitement. "I practice. Bonjour." She stopped herself. "No. no. 'Allo Joolee." Odd-Eel said looking towards me.

"Errm. Hi. Pleased to meet you." I let her kiss my cheek. It was not as if I could take a hand or anything.

"You are well? Is everything OK?" Dennis asked.

"Oh Yes. All very good. I pass my backa lorry out."

Driving? Learning to reverse a lorry at her age? What?

I was lost again.

"Excellent." Dennis seemed genuinely pleased. "I am pleased for you." He clapped the girl on the back.

Then he looked around. "Monique, Your mother. She is in? Oui?"

"Oui. Yes. " Odd-eel said. "Elle e dans... She is in the.. the... cuis... err.. kitchen." She pointed along the corridor.

Dennis almost gave me to Odd-Eel as he walked away. Presumably to talk to Monique.

Odd-Eel took my arm. Well my upper arm. "Please talk to me. Tell me about England. And please... if I make mistake. Please to correct me. I know Mr Dennis his English. It is not so good. My teacher at l'ecole. err.. School. He is not good also. I watch television and I try to learn."

"Oh. Errm Well Ok. So first in England we would probably say 'If I make A mistake.' Singular."

"If I make A mistake.?" Odd-Eel repeated.

"That's it." I smiled.

As we talked, she led me into, what looked like, a main living room.

On the table next to the sofa was a framed photograph of her holding a certificate being handed to her by some stuffed shirt chappie.

Ahh.

The light dawned on my slow dim brain.

Odile.

Her name was Odile. I would say as in Crod-Odile. Not like the French- Odd-Eel. That was what had confused me.

And the certificate was apparently a Baccalaureate. Some sort of qualification.

I chuckled at my own confusion and ignorance.

This country was so different to what I was used to.

Odile sat next to me on the sofa but facing towards me.

"Please to tell me about England. Where you live. How you meet Mr Dennis. What it like where you live. What you do. How you come here. Next year I want Mr Dennis take me to England, so I can stay for some month. Maybe I stay the whole of summer. So I can talk with English people. Real people."

"Wow. Slow down. " I blinked at the torrent of words.

"So. You changed from Uncle Dennis to Mr Dennis. Why is that?" I asked when I was able to get a word in.

"Oh he not really my Uncle. Mama tell me to call him that when he first come round to see me. I am much younger then."

"Oh. So err.. Go on." I said slowly, wondering where this was going.

What exactly was his relationship to Odile and Monique?

"Mr Dennis is man who... Mr Dennis run into me in his car. It Is not his fault. I walk into road reading. But he put blame on him."